


Don't

by sabinelagrande



Category: House
Genre: F/M, Solo, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-26
Updated: 2007-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 10:56:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cuddy lays in bed, and she doesn't think about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't

Cuddy lays in bed, and she doesn't think about him.

Her hands wander restlessly over her body, stopping to twist a nipple or caress a particularly sensitive spot. She doesn't think about how she let his hands have that luxury, how he slowly found her every weakness.

She rubs the flat of her palm against her clit, not thinking about House's mouth on her. She doesn't need to remember how she shook as his tongue played in her, drawing obscenities and blasphemies from her lips.

Her fingers know exactly where to go, exactly the speed she wants, exactly how to move. It's much better than how he used to be, trying anything he thought would please her. She doesn't need House's gentle experimentations or the feeling of losing control.

She doesn't want House inside her, because her fingers feel exquisite, stretching out to fill every inch of her. She doesn't remember how it felt as he slid slowly in and out of her, staring into her eyes as if there was some mystery to unlock in them. It's hot and delicious and beautiful and she doesn't think about anything except the moment, not even how blissful it was when she felt him pulse inside her as she tightened around him.

Cuddy whispers his name when she comes, and she pretends it doesn't mean anything at all.


	2. Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House lays in bed, and he tries not to think about anything at all.

House lays in bed, and he tries not to think about anything at all.

Anything but his hand is just a distraction, just something to get between him and the moment. He doesn't need anything or anyone else, just his hand pulling up and sliding down in the warm silence of his bed.

But he remembers with a sudden jolt how she looked when she moaned his name, how she threw her head back and laughed as he entered her, and he's undone, lost in a moment that's long gone.

He's lost completely as his hand becomes hers, her delicate fingers surprisingly strong around him. He can almost feel her lips against him, tracing out the contours of his neck as if memorizing him- the clavicle, the sternal notch, the manubrium, the sternum.

He picks up speed as he imagines her moving down his body, fingers tracing over every inch. She wouldn't be like this- so fast and so sure- but the deified Cuddy that lives in his head always is. She's been around long enough to know his every want.

Not waiting any longer, she shakes as she rides him, swearing and blessing in the same breath, breasts bouncing above him. His name spills out of her mouth, and he spends himself on that thought, gasping for breath, sweat-drenched and sticking to his sheets, still alone.


End file.
